First Time for Everything
by girlwiththeblackinkpen
Summary: First meeting. First hug. First kiss. First love. /or/ A FitzSimmons backstory. FitzSimmons. T for slight language. /COMPLETE/
1. First Meet

Jemma Simmons tightly grips her acceptance letter in her fist, a bright smile fighting its way across her face.

"_Be cool," _She thinks to herself, _"Don't want to embarrass yourself on the first day…"_

The steps to the school are a bleak grey, and in her mind, the red-brick building seems to tower over her, diminishing her tiny frame. She straightens up, drawing herself up to her full, nineteen-year-old height, and takes the first step.

When nothing implodes, and she doesn't self-combust, she releases her breath and walks up the rest of the steps more confidently. She swings her bag forward, stuffing her letter into her bag. She tucks her hair behind her ear nervously, and she plasters on a confident grin, marching into the building.

She doesn't know why she's so nervous, she did this the first time around with earning her first and second PhD, she doesn't know why she gets butterflies her third time around.

She's not earning a PhD this time, maybe that's why she's so nervous. She hoped to get an actual MD, and perhaps teach at an university or become a doctor. Or maybe work in a crime lab, that's always been a fantasy of hers.

A long, wide hallway greets her, and many women and men, _older _women and men, are rushing back and forth. She stumbles a bit as she makes her way through the hallway.

"_The second right then a left," _ her dorm floor supervisor had said.

Jemma followed the directions, and soon found herself at her destination.

She pushed open the door hesitantly, grinning when the room was only half-full. She'd have hated if everybody had turned to stare at her because she was late.

She sat down at the front, eager and ready to learn.

The teacher, (Mr. Helm, tall, thin, and white) is followed by a man wearing a black suit and glasses.

"Students," Mr. Helm begins, "I know you wouldn't like to start off your first semester with an evaluation, but it will not count on your grade and is just to see where you are in the class."

He hands out thick packets of paper to each of the students, and Jemma dives into her bag for a pencil.

She's the first to finish.

She hands in her test, and the teacher raises an eyebrow but dismisses her, citing that she could leave and hands off the test to the man in the suit.

She nods, and shuts the door quietly behind her.

She thinks nothing of it, until she gets a call three days later.

…

**FILE #3ACBG Recorded Conversation DATE: 2003 Sept. 10 TIME: 1304**

_***ring* *ring***_

"_Hello?"_

"Hello. May I please speak with Miss Jemma Simmons?"

" … _She's here, hang on. Simmons! It's for you."_

_***Clatter***_

"_Hello?"_

"Good afternoon. This is the Agency of S.H.E.I.L.D. We request that you please meet with us at 3:00PM today. A car will be by to escort you. The agent escorting you will show you a badge. Thank you."

***Click***

…

**FILE #3BCBG Recorded Conversation DATE: 2003 Sept. 10 TIME: 1500**

_COULSON: _Good afternoon. My name is Agent Phil Coulson.

_HILL: _Agent Maria Hill.

_J. SIMMONS: _Jemma Simmons. Er… Dr. Jemma Simmons, I guess.

_COULSON: _We just have a couple of questions for you Miss Simmons.

_J. SIMMONS: _Alright.

_HILL: _Do you know what S.H.I.E.L.D. is?

_J. SIMMONS: _Sorry, no.

_HILL: _S.H.I.E.L.D. stands for Strategic Homeland Intervention, Enforcement, and Logistics Division. We are an primarily based in the U.S., but run missions internationally.

_COULSON: _The test you took the other day – in your class? That was an assessment. We were looking for somebody with your talents. We need more scientists, more researchers, and we think you have the potential to be a wonderful agent. Perhaps not a field agent, but you would have the chance to work in a high-tech lab, with technology that is _not even from this Earth._

_J. SIMMONS: _You mean… Aliens are real?

_COULSON: _Yes.

_J. SIMMONS: _*laughs* I _knew _it. Is the anatomy the same? I have to know. Do they have the same vital organs. Is their DNA even the structured the same way?

_HILL: _You'll be able to do all the experimenting you want at S.H.I.E.L.D.

_COULSON: _However, you will have to give up your scholarship and attend a S.H.I.E.L.D. academy. After that, we'd assign you a partner and you'd begin working for S.H.I.E.L.D.

_J. SIMMONS: _Would I get a chance to explain this to my parents, before I leave?

_COULSON: _Of course. We'll fly you to your parents and then send you to the academy right away – we want to get you started as soon as possible.

J. SIMMONS: Um. Al-Alright.

…

Leo Fitz grasps his bags tightly, the building seemingly a ramshackle shack in the middle of nowhere.

This is supposed to be the grand S.H.I.E.L.D. education building? Where, according to the two agents, his "hopes and dreams of adventure were to come true"?

He pushed open the door, and grumbling, but soon pushes away his thoughts when he sees the clean, white interior. A circular white pad is in the corner, and Fitz hesitantly steps on.

He is whooshed away downwards, and he clutches his bag tight to his chest in shock. An agent greets him when it comes to a stop.

"Morning," he says, "You're late. Lucky there's no class today, Vaughn is a pain in the ass when it comes to tardiness. Fury wants the fresh meat to feel 'welcome' so you have two days to settle in. Get your quarters settled and all that."

He slaps a stack of papers into Fitz's already full hands.

The agent taps the paper, "Room assignment, your schedule – everything from when you wake up to when you can go to take a piss – is right here. Rule and regulations underneath that, and a map of the facility is under that," he hands Leo a laminated card with a picture of a stunned-looking Leo on it, a shiny silver clip on it. The agent snaps it onto Leo's pocket, "Nice picture," he snickers, "This is how you get food, towels, toilet paper, check out books from out library. You want to leave the campus – take this with you, it's how you're getting back in. Got it? Good. You've actually got a female dorm mate, which is pretty rare, but good on you, eh?" the agent slaps Fitz on the back, "Have fun," he says, and walks off to greet the next new arrival.

Fitz nods, and looks down.

**Leo Fitz; Engineer**

**LEVEL 4B – ROOM 23A**

**ROOM 23B: Jemma Simmons; BioChem**

**Schedule (Mon. – Fri.)**

700 Wake up Alarm

745 Breakfast

800 Morning Exercise

820 Bathroom Break

830 Classes

1230 Lunch

1310 Bathroom Break

1320 Training

1500 Recreation

1700 Study Time (Mandatory)

1800 Dinner

1900 Recreation

2300 Lights Out

The hallway was quite large, had a front desk with a rather intimidating-looking agent sitting at it, and six sleek, clear tubes that served as elevators.

"Erm… sir? How can I get to… here?" Fitz asks, pointing to his room number.

The man looks up from his magazine, "Take the second elevator, then count the room numbers until you hit it. Two door, you're in 23A, you're dorm-mates in 23B. Don't bother me."

Fitz nods, "Thank you…" he says, trailing off when he realizes that the guard isn't listening.

He steps into the middle elevator, and presses the button labeled '4.' It whooshes past floors, and Fitz catches glimpses of people playing games, watching telly, eating, studying. He soon arrives at his floor, and the glass door slides open.

Grey doors, and a long green carpet that extends the whole hallway. The rooms start with the letter one, odds on the right, even on the left. Two doors, "1A" and "1B".

Fitz jogs slightly to his room, not wanting to be caught lingering in such an empty hallway.

…11A, 17B…

23A.

He pushes the door open, and is slightly disappointed. No window – they're underground, what was he expecting – a small bed, a bookshelf with a dictionary and a few reference books, along with a dusty S.H.I.E.L.D. manual. A dresser is pushed against the other wall, next to the bathroom.

Fitz pokes around the bathroom, and finds a shower and a door that leads 23B.

A few feet from the bathroom door is a wide, empty doorway that also leads to 23B, giving him a good view of the same accommodations as his room.

Against the adjacent wall is a black desk with a laptop on it, with a cup full on pencils.

He grins at the laptop, and flings his suitcase inconsequentially onto the bed. He sets his precious bag of spare parts onto the desk and begins working, finding the laptop already loaded with the graphing and coding programs he needed.

There is a sudden opening sound in the other room, and a female sigh echoes through the room. Fitz hears a clank and a muttered curse. Fitz hesitantly goes to the other room to investigate, and sees a pretty, brown-haired girl fumbling with the clasps of a specimen bin, which had apparently tumbled to the ground just seconds earlier.

"Need help there?" Fitz asks.

"That would be much appreciated, thank you," she says. When she gets it open, the stench of rotting flesh hits his nostrils and he recoils.

"Argh, what the _hell_," he whines. Leo likes clean. Clean labs and straight lines and sanitary.

"That was my specimen of Clathrus ruber!" she wails, desperately trying to separate the specimen from the bits of broken glass.

Fitz pulls away, holding his nostrils, "What is that?"

"A rare fungus they discovered in Wales – I managed to get a sample and now it's _destroyed," _She shakes her head, as if lamenting the loss of a loved one, and flicks away a piece of glass despondently, "I was hoping to distill the manganese it collects and…"

She stops speaking, suddenly, looking up and hastily shoves the fungus back into the specimen box, closing the clasps, and pressing a button on the a small panel he hadn't noticed before by her door that opened the air vents.

In seconds the awful stench was gone, and Fitz released his nose, sucking in a breath of fresh hair.

She stuck her hand out, smiling apologetically, "Sorry for rambling, I'm Jemma Simmons. You're… Leo Fitz, right? I read you're an engineer. I'm a biochemist, but you, erm, probably knew that."

Leo takes her hand, shaking it and picking up her suitcase and another light brown messenger bag.

"What's in the bag?" Fitz asks.

"Some notebooks – some of them are filled and others aren't, I…"

Fitz interrupted her, knowing what she was about to say, "Always keep a pen and paper handy?"

Simmons nodded, beaming.

Fitz set down her suitcase by her dresser, then placed the other bag on the desk.

"What are we supposed to do tomorrow?" Jemma asked, sitting on the bed while Fitz took her desk chair.

He shrugged, "Bond, watch movies, run experiments."

She grinned, "Sounds like a lot of fun."

**A/N: I think this is going to be a three-shot, going the three days before they actually have to 'learn'. I really like this pairing, they're really cute together, and I like how in the show Fitz seems really protective of Simmons.**

**This, is an "origin" story, I guess. I'm trying my hardest to keep it canon-compliant but it's probably AU.**

**Anyways. Thank you for reading, tune in for the next chapter, maybe.**


	2. First Hug, First Kiss

…

**2 MONTHS LATER**

**2004 January 17 (Saturday) 1803**

"Fitz could you _please _move your trousers off the bathroom floor?" Simmons asks, poking her head from the bathroom door, a toothbrush in her hand.

Fitz looks up from his book, and grumbles as he pushes himself up and pushes his way into the bathroom.

He swipes his pants off the floor, tossing them into the hamper by the door.

"It's your turn to do the laundry," Simmons says, pushing Fitz out the bathroom and shoving the overflowing hamper out with him, "I think I'm going to take a shower," Simmons calls out after him, "D'you think that you could bring back some more towels while you're there?"

"Fine," Fitz grunts, and he grabs his ID card on the way out.

He makes his way to the elevator, his thoughts taking over as he made his way to the amenities floor.

Two months of living in the same space with Simmons had made them familiar with each other, and while they weren't without argument, they'd clicked quite well. Most of the other trainees were American, and calling each other by their last name had become both a term of endearment and a source of familiarity that they missed back in their hometowns. They are both the youngest at the Academy, three years younger than the usual age of recruitment (Simmons 17, and Fitz 19) and they usually spent their weekends off from class in their rooms, playing games or watching movies.

They felt awkward on the recreation floor with the other students, and Fitz tended to get pushed around by the other agents. They were tied for the top of class, and perhaps that was another reason they were so isolated from the other recruits, but Jemma didn't seem to mind, and neither did he.

Simmons was cool. She liked science and didn't whine like other girls. And she knew how to cook. Which was a plus.

The elevator door slid open, and Fitz was jolted out of his thoughts, and he hefted the hamper up. He passed the swimming pool, the sauna, and made it to the laundry room, a square room lined with washing and drying machines. He put the hamper down, sorting through them and putting them into the wash.

He sighed, and fiddled with his ID card as he walked to the towel station to pick up more towels. He scanned his card, then grabbed a couple before returning to the laundry room.

Another agent was there, also probably doing his laundry.

"Morning," Fitz said hesitantly, moving his own hamper off the machine.

The agent turned, stuffing a shirt into the machine and nodding. He paused suddenly, "You're… Leo, right?"

Fitz nodded, "Yeah. Sorry, I've never seen you in class, what's your name?"

He stuck his hand out, "Michael Dalton. I've been studying hacking here, that's probably why you've never met me. Separate classes, different facility."

Fitz nods, "Cool."

"You're room-mates with the bio-chem gal, right?" Michael asks, "Jenny?"

"Jemma."

"Oh. You guys seem close," Michael says carefully.

Fitz shrugs, "We're friends."

"So there's nothing between the two of you?"

"No," Fitz affirms, "Why?"

"Oh," Michael says, "I just wanted to know. I was thinking about asking her out, y'know?"

Fitz was stunned. Sure, Jemma was attractive, but surely she wouldn't be interested in such a blockhead like Michael. He'd never noticed before how unattractive Michael looked. His nose was a bit too big and his… his cheekbones were too defined. Women didn't like that, right?

Leo tried playing it cool. Simmons was obviously not going to be interested in Michael, so Fitz decided that, since it was only nice, he would have to let him down easy for her.

It was obviously the nice thing to do.

And it's not because Fitz wants to protect Simmons from no doubt the dirty, sleazy scum that Michael-

And he's not jealous either.

"She's actually not interested in – " Fitz begins, but is cut off by a voice from behind.

"Not interested in what?" Simmons asks.

Fitz whips around, and finds Simmons, whose arms are crossed across her chest, a frown on her face.

"Oh – erm, hi Jemma," Michael says from behind Fitz.

Simmons's face softens, "Hello Michael, I see you've met my roommate," Simmons puts her hands on her hips, turning back to Fitz, "Where were you? I got worried about you because you were taking forever to come back. The shows about to stream, let's go –you can come back for the laundry later."

"Erm, Jemma?" Michael says suddenly, "I was wondering if you maybe wanted to go get coffee with me? At the lounge?"

Fitz smirks. There is no way in hell that Simmons would say ye-

"I'd love to!" Simmons says brightly, "Today?"

"Right now, if you're not busy," Michael says.

"Actually, I was just about to watch a show with Fitz, how 'bout two hours from now? I'll meet you in the lounge," Simmons says.

Fitz is about to be sick.

"Come on, it's going to be a little while before the clothes are done," Simmons says, pulling Fitz along, "I'll see you later, Michael!"

Fitz feels oddly numb as he walks back to the room, with Simmons's arm pressed against his side in the small elevator, the light scent of her hair, and the knowledge that in two hours, she's going to be on a date with somebody that isn't him is making him dizzy.

"Fitz? FITZ! Let's go."

Soon they're both sitting on the couch they'd put in Fit's room (his being slightly bigger) with the laptop between them, live-streaming BBC.

…

The phone rings half-way into the newest QI, and both of them groan. She gets up to answer it, while Fitz presses pause.

"Hello? … Yes, of course, nice to hear from you… What sort of bad news?"

Fitz looks up, and Simmons's face had become alarmed. She is silent as she listens to the person on the other line, and she sniffles, and brushes a strand of hair that had come loose.

"Thank – Thank you for telling me sir. Good bye, sir," Simmons said, and she placed the phone back into the receiver.

Fitz sits up, sensing something wrong.

Simmons turns, tears prickling her eyes.

"My… my gram passed away last night," she states, her voice wobbling.

Fitz's own grandmother had passed away when he was sixteen, so he could relate to the type of pain that comes with losing a loved one.

Fitz gets up, guiding her to the couch, wrapping his arms around her in a soothing hug. Her hair tickled his face, and her elbow was digging into his stomach, but as her shoulders shook with sobs and his shirt turned damp, he realized he cared for this girl. This girl who was with him in this foreign country, who supported him and took his interests to heart.

Simmons lifts her head, sniffling, and rubbing the tears away, "Do you think, that you could perhaps come with me – back to London for the funeral? I just don't think I could make it alone."

Fitz nods, "Of course."

They spend the rest of the day between the couch and Fitz's bed, watching rerun of QI in each other's arms.

Michael and coffee the last thing on both of their minds.

…

**2 YEARS LATER**

**2006 March 23 (Thursday) 1318**

"Simmons – you're up," Michael says, holding the meeting room door open for her and winking, "Good luck."

Simmons gets up, squeezing Fitz's hand nervously. Today is the day they'd be finding out their partner, most likely for their entire career at S.H.I.E.L.D. Most likely for the two of them it would be an agent that was a specialist in the same topic of the opposite gender.

There were rumors Simmons was to be partnered to the coldly handsome, infamous Kris Leff, 23 years old and a recent recruit from John Hopkins. He had been studying to become a doctor, and he originally been on full scholarship, as the school recognized his raw talent in biology. He'd been recruited by Fury himself, who had been alerted about the potential of Kris by a retired agent who had been teaching at the school.

Simmons grins nervously. She's going to miss Fitz. He is kind, and a great friend, and they had promised to stay in touch.

She goes to push the door open, but before she can Fitz grabs her wrist.

"Jemma…" Fitz's gaze is intense, and he leans in close…

Jemma swears her heart stopped beating.

Fitz presses a light kiss on her forehead, "Good luck."

Stunned, Jemma looks at Fitz, her eyes wide. She smiles slightly, and hugs Fitz tightly, "Thank you."

…

"Congratulations, Agent Simmons, on completing your training. Your assigned partner is, in fact Kris Leff. He's a little green, seeing as he hasn't gone through the Academy, but I'm sure you can guide him through protocol," Agent Coulson says, "You'll be given a couple months to rest and then you'll have your first mission with your partner. I recommend you get to know him. You will probably be doing lab work together. Most partners are just for show, but the since you'll be doing mostly lab work, you should get quite familiar with him."

"Thank you, sir," Jemma says, nodding, "I look forward to working with him."

…

**14 September 2006 – Federal Agent Arrested for Unruly Conduct**

A federal agent by the name of Kris Leff was arrested on Monday for unruly conduct. Heavily intoxicated, Leff was arrested by police on the corner of a intersection by a liquor store. It is believed he was also under the influence of drugs, and will most likely be stripped of his title as agent. Leff was believed to be… STORY CONTINUED ON PAGE 4A

…

**2006 October 15 (Sunday) 0943**

"Jemma, as I understand, you're in need of a partner," Agent Hill says, sighing as she flips through folders, "I _told _Fury Leff was a loose cannon, and did he listen? No."

Simmons smiles slightly, uneasy, "Yes, erm, I was hoping for a new partner. It's rather hard to work on projects by myself."

"Hmmm," Hill states, "There aren't any ready agents from the Academy…." She flipped through the files, "I don't think you'd like to be paired with an field agent?"

Simmons laughs, "No ma'am."

"Oh. Here's a good agent," Agent Hill says suddenly, "…Leo Fitz? Do you know him? His partner was recently transferred to field work. They never really got along, so they both put in a request for a transfer."

"Is he… an engineer?" Simmons asks, her attention prickling.

"Yes, you okay with that?"

"Yes."

…

**2006 October 22 (Sunday) 1304**

Jemma nervously rubbed her hands against her legs, fidgeting with her skirt.

"Simmons?" a voice asks.

He had gotten taller, and his hair was slightly longer. Jemma stood, smiling, and embraced Fitz in a hug.

"I missed you," she whispered, the emotions overtaking her.

"Me too."


	3. First Love

**First Love (Epilogue)**

**2007 September 12 (Wednesday) 1823**

"Simmons! What the hell, your damn corpse is next to my sandwich!"

"I can't put it anywhere else, your little bolts and metal pieces are everywhere! And it's not a _corpse_, Fitz, it's the infected specimen cat that is only heavily sedated."

"Well is it my fault that you won't let us request a Capuchin that could keep the lab organized?"

"For the last time, we are _not _getting a monkey! And, you're just jealous that _you _weren't given an assignment from Director Fury and _I _was."

Fitz scowled, "You're the only bio-chemist not teaching or busy with the outbreak in New York."

Simmons shot him an affronted look, "Please, at least I'm not afraid of an infected cat," she shot back.

"I'm not afraid! I just don't want to get infected by a bloody virus there isn't a cure for!"

"I'm working on it, Fitz! I'm just having trouble isolating the antigens from the cat and making sure they're compatible with humans _and _I have to figure out a delivery mechanism that won't involve making around two-hundred syringes for the infected area on a rural island off the coast of Cuba that doesn't have a single place that is big enough for a plane to land which means I have to find an anti-serum by tomorrow evening or else the cure won't arrive on time and one-hundred seventy-eight deaths are going to be on my hands," Simmons said, taking a deep breath, her brow furrowing.

Fitz was taken aback by her sudden out-burst, and he could now see the stress that had befallen her because of her first real assignment.

They'd been partners for less than a year now, and they were still learning each other's wavelengths. They spent nearly every hour of every day together, working on assigned projects and small ideas of their own.

They were cramped up in a small space that served as both of their labs, and space was tight at the Academy as it was.

Fitz would often turn around and bump Simmons in the chin with his shoulder. He would turn red, apologize profusely, and Simmons would laugh and curse the size of their sorry excuse for a lab.

This was their, or really, her, first major project, delivered from the intimidating Director Fury with only the cold, "Fix it. Now."

A virus had infected a small population on a secluded island, spreading through the animals first and then to the humans. The cat Simmons was using to derive anti-bodies from was one of the known survivors of the virus, and Simmons had the task of finding a cure, making sure they were compatible with humans, and developing an efficient delivery mechanism, and she had about… thirty hours and twenty four minutes to do so.

"Jemma," Fitz said suddenly.

Simmons looked up, startled by Fitz's sudden use of her first name, "Yes?"

"Why don't – I mean, I think I can make a delivery mechanism that can deliver the vaccine through a small electro-static shock… Just so, y'know, you could work on the cure," Fitz suggested, rubbing the back of his neck.

Simmons broke out into a smile, "That'd be brilliant, Leo."

…**.**

The cure arrived one day early, no deaths, no injuries.

…**.**

**2008 March 17 (Monday) 904**

They were moving into a new lab, a bigger lab, and Simmons was already tired from moving her heavy lab tools, and slowly getting pissed by Fitz's superior-than-thou attitude he had because while she had a ton of lab stuff to move, he only had a couple odds and ends, his tool bag, and his laptop.

She struggled down the hall, toting the box of surgery supplies under her right arm while simultaneously carrying her box of bio-chemicals in the other. Fitz had smugly walked past her, his tool bag slung over one shoulder, his laptop tucked under his other arm.

"Fitz, do you think you could help me instead of just waltzing off," Simmons said testily.

"Oh, no, you _chose _bio-chemistry, you have to live with it," Fitz said.

Simmons glared at him as he waved cruelly from behind the glass door of the lab.

She set down one of the boxes, sighing angrily.

"D'you need help there?" a husky voice, and two hands grabbed the box Simmons had set on the ground.

Simmons smiled shyly, "Erm… thank you."

Fitz poked his head out, looking guilty, but narrowed his eyes when he saw Simmons approaching the lab with a new friend.

"I'm Jacob Phelps," he said, once he had set the box down, sticking his hand out.

Fitz butted in, pushing Simmons back and taking the offered hand, "Leo Fitz."

Simmons shot him a glare, and turned back to Jacob, smiling, "Jemma Simmons."

Agent Phelps raised an eyebrow, "Anyways, I have to go, I'm actually in the lab a couple doors down, but, um, drop by anytime. Maybe we'll get some tea."

"Thank you, I will."

Simmons set the box down angrily, shooting a glare at Fitz.

"Really, Fitz, you'd think you were _twelve_," Simmons says in a frustrated voice, "He just wanted to go out for tea."

"Please," Fitz sneered, "Americans don't drink _tea_, he was obviously going to set you up. Or he's mocking your culture."

"Frankly, Fitz, it feels like you're the one who's mocking my culture," Simmons said back, not looking up from her sorting, "I can't believe you waltzed right past me but then you get jealous when I accept help from somebody else."

"Wha- I wasn't jealous, okay – I was just concerned for your safety," Fitz stated hotly, "For all you know he could be a pervy bastard!"

"Oh – really, and how did you arrive at that conclusion?" Simmons retorted back, slamming a test tube rack onto the table angrily. She took a deep breath, "You know what, I can't do this right now. I have a meeting with Agent Hill and Director Fury in ten minutes."

She grabbed her bag off the table, storming out.

Fitz let out a long sigh, running a hand through his hair.

Jesus bloody Christ.

…

**2013 November 7 (Wednesday) 2314**

_Jemma stands on the platform. Blue sweater, white collar peaking out from the top. Black pants, tucked into a pair of borrowed combat boots from Skye. Her hair was whipping around her. Her skin was pale, paler than usual, a few tendrils of caramel-colored hair had come loose from her pony-tail._

"_JEMMA! NO!"_

_His throat is raw from screaming. Screaming her name. She stares at him. Her eyes are red-rimmed, tears streaming down her face._

_She frowns slightly, a fresh tear sliding down the curve of his cheek._

_Jemma seems like she is about to come to her senses, run back to his arms and stay there like she's meant to be, but she leans back the slightest bit and she falls back._

_She falls back gracefully, her back arching, her legs flaying up._

_Fitz bangs on the lab doors. They won't open. He slams them again, and again, and again, but they won't open._

_There's a bright flash of light, and Fitz feels the cold dread spreading through him._

_Her body floats up, slowly, in full view through the glass doors of the lab._

_Her eyes are glazed, her hand is outstretched, and a tear seems to fall in slow motion from her eyes…_

Fitz shoots awake, a knocking on the door startling him awake. He is covered in a sheen of sweat, and his vision is distorted slightly as he gets out of bed, kicking his sheets off.

"Sorry, Skye, I didn't mean to wake yo- " Fitz says, rubbing his eyes, knowing his kicking probably interrupted the light-sleeping hacker. It is, in fact, Jemma, wringing her hands nervously and staring at the ground.

She tugs at the edge of her t-shirt (one of his that she'd stolen some time ago) and looks up, "Oh, if you're expecting somebody else then I can just leave…"

Fitz shook his head, "Come on in, Jemma."

"I just, I couldn't sleep," Jemma said quietly.

"It's okay, me neither," Fitz confessed.

"D'you think I could sleep here, with you?"

"Sure."

Jemma crawls into Fit's small bed, and Fitz climbs in afterwards. This wasn't their first time in bed together. The first had been the night Simmon's grandmother had died, the second time when Fitz's mother had been diagnosed with cancer. Nothing sexual occurred, but they tended to crawl into each other's arms when they needed it.

Fitz settled his arms into the familiar slight curves of Jemma's body, and she buried her face into the crook of his neck.

"I'm so sorry, Fitz," Jemma whispered, the hot tears running down her cheeks.

Fitz leaned back, lifting her chin so he could see her face.

She looked at him, really looked at him, and he did the same.

In that moment, it hit him.

It was like the last puzzle piece had suddenly popped back into place, and he realized he loved this girl.

This girl in his arms, who he had done everything with, learned with, laughed with, fought with.

He placed a soft kiss on her lips, and her eyes slowly fluttered close, eagerly returning it. He then pulled away, embracing her, holding her close.

"I love you, Leo," she whispered.

A warmth spread in him, from his core, and he smiled.

"I love you too."

**-Fin—**

**A/N: Thank you to everybody who followed, favorite, and/or reviewed it. Thanks for reading.**


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